


Hiyake

by songbrd



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Confessions, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, POV Akechi Goro, Post-Canon, Sojiro and Futaba and Ann are there for like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbrd/pseuds/songbrd
Summary: Goro had taken the day off, since it was Akira’s first full day back. But it was only 11 in the morning and he already felt...raw, sunburnt, exhausted. It was something he’d expected but had no idea how to prepare for, something that came hand in hand with being in Akira’s orbit.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 151





	Hiyake

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to corrine and vega and itou and who validated me before i posted this. love you all mwah

He watched absentmindedly as the chime swayed in the window, a rare breeze finding its way into the Yonja back alley on an otherwise sweltering summer day. It didn’t quite reach where he could feel it, but seeing it and hearing the tinkle of the chime was somehow signal enough for him to let go of the breath he’d been holding. He turned away from the window, stretching his limbs across the whole bed, still not finding it in himself to actually get out of bed.

He heard a faint clink of metal from downstairs, followed by the soft hiss of milk foaming, followed by a much rougher, smirk-inducing hiss. His gracious host must’ve burnt himself in haste on the new espresso machine, he deduced with short-lived mirth. _Akira just got back_ , he chided, at once annoyed with himself. _Be nice_. He forced down his smirk.

By the time Akira ascended the stairs with their coffees, Goro was dressed and seated at the desk, hand mirror propped up with care as he patted his toner dry on his face.

“One black-and-white mocha for Akechi Goro,” Akira chirped in his best barista voice as he deposited the mug on the tabletop. Goro took his time finishing applying serum before glancing down at the drink. Akira’d told him before he’d come back that he’d been working on latte art at his coffee shop gig back home, but this was the first time Goro was getting to see it. He couldn’t help the lurch in his chest at the intricate heart his host had drawn into the foam with steady, practiced hands, couldn’t help flashing his eyes up to meet the steel grey ones waiting for him behind the false lenses for a moment before gathering himself to reply.

“Well, now I feel like I can’t even drink it or I’ll ruin it.”

Akira smiled one of his soft smiles, and Goro noted that his shoulders let go of some tension. So, he’d actually been nervous.

“I can always make another.”

Goro pouted, humming. “And so it turns out your love is cheap.”

Akira grinned. “For you? On the house.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that.

Goro had taken the day off, since it was Akira’s first full day back. But it was only 11 in the morning and he already felt...raw, sunburnt, exhausted. It was something he’d expected but had no idea how to prepare for, something that came hand in hand with being in Akira’s orbit, or at least came hand in hand with him, specifically, being within Akira’s orbit. He’d once asked Ann about it and she’d laughed, though not unkindly.

“He makes you feel vulnerable.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t known for your tact, are you?” he’d seethed, as out of his depth as ever when it came to the Phantom Thieves.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He’d scowled at her and walked away.

She was right, of course.

But how was it possible, when Akira never really even _did_ anything to make him feel exposed? All he’d done so far was quietly walk by Goro’s side, inanely commenting on any new construction they’d passed, and smile and say he’d be just a moment, he just wanted to take pictures of the hydrangeas, and not pressure Goro into saying anything at all.

It was so strange. A few years ago Goro would’ve been the one talking his ear off, caught between the parallel horrors that were oversharing and agonizing silence. Akira was a good listener, everyone said. And it wasn’t that Goro would disagree, it was just that he had a pretty good case to bat for Akira being a better watcher than anything. He was the quintessential wallflower.

But that was then.

The silence now was at least companionable. There was a part of Goro that always squirmed - maybe would always squirm, at having nothing to say. But like Ann had so graciously pointed out to him, Akira made him feel vulnerable. If he opened his mouth now, especially now that they had years behind them, there was no telling what might come out of it.

Akira didn’t question his reticence, just caught his gaze from time to time. He wore a look of quiet contemplation just behind the twinkle that could disarm and distract most, like he was strategizing his approach to...something. They’d walked all the way to Komazawa Olympic Park and took a breather alongside the pool. Akira shared plotlines from books he’d been reading in his down time to debate with Goro predictions for the endings, they’d ended up in meaningless squabbles over the author’s intentions and the characters’ drives, and then Goro holed up inside himself again. He could never tell when he got pulled out. Maybe he didn’t. He was the cave and the sun was at his doorstep.

Akira’d bought them donuts without asking. Goro ate his in two and a half bites, precisely.

“Sweet tooth still going strong, I see.”

Goro sighed, crumpling the wrapper in his clenched fist, rolling his eyes high to the sky. “Your commitment to insisting that I have one is far stronger than any sweet tooth I might’ve had at any given moment in time.”

“Sure thing, I totally will let it go and not comment next time you order extra maple syrup at-”

“That’s different. You’re supposed to eat those hotcakes with maple syrup, and the amount they give you is absolutely abysmal. The fact that they charge two-hundred yen for an additional helping is downright criminal, but I would rather be robbed of some pocket change than eat plain hotcakes.”

Akira didn’t say anything, just leered at him with a grin playing at his lips, quirking up the corners in that cat-got-the-cream kind of way that spelled his loss. Goro snapped his eyes up, away from his lips, breathing in a little too loudly. He wasn’t going down that line of thought right now. He refused to.

“Shut up, Kurusu.”

Akira whistled low, “Ouch.” But his smile remained.

Now they sat at the bar in Leblanc, basking in the air conditioning and drinking iced waters. Sakura Sojiro’s cafe had picked up a bit in the last year, since a new university had moved into the neighborhood and brought with it a whole new host of students. The cafe owner stood at the front booth, taking orders from a group of girls who all had their notebooks out, for the moment blissfully unaware of the close attention Goro was paying the exposed slip of chest and shoulder beyond Akira’s collarbone that revealed itself as his counterpart shook the collar of his shirt to fan himself. Ah, his ears noted, it seemed the girls were going for a second round of coffees. Goro glanced up dubiously at an approaching Sojiro, whose entire expression read at once “I saw that” and “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see what I think I just saw.” Goro cleared his throat and addressed Akira, who was lazily playing with the ice in his cup now.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to do? Since it’s your first day back and all.”

Akira hummed in thought, propping his cheek up, gaze a million miles away. Goro felt a small terror sprout at the base of his skull.

“I would imagine you would’ve spent today with - well, with everyone else. I’m sorry your schedules didn’t align.”

“What?”

“I just imagine the day you had anticipated and how today is actually turning out are quite different, is all.”

“Goro.”

“So if there is anything you would like to do, all you have to do is name it. We can go anywhere. It’s just me, but I’m free all day.”

Akira opened his mouth again, but paused and closed it. He looked impossibly fond. Goro couldn’t look long, his face itched. Did he have aloe vera at home, or had he run out? He was going to need it after the human-sized sun that was Kurusu Akira burned him from the inside out. Goro gulped the last of his water glass to stave off his dry throat, wiping the corner of his mouth with his fist hastily. Ugh.

“So?” he asked, staring hard at his empty glass.

“Do you have a TV?”

Goro made a quizzical sound, glancing to the side.

“Like, do you have a TV at your place that is newer than the hunk of junk we call a television upstairs that could maybe stream something?”

“You..” Goro started, then shook his head. “Yes?”

“Perfect. I’m inviting myself over.”

Goro leveled him with a stare.

“You mean to tell me that you want to spend your first day back in Tokyo not taking advantage of all the city has to offer, but sitting in a one-room apartment watching something you could also have watched at home?”

“Sitting with _you_ in a one-room apartment watching something I could’ve watched at home, yes.”

Goro caught Sojiro’s shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh in that case, allow me to add to my description the word ‘cramped’.”

“I would’ve chosen cozy, but to each their own.”

“I don’t think cozy sounds any more enticing than cramped on a thirty-five degree day, but okay, Akira, anything you say.”

“You have air conditioning?”

“And a fan.”

“Cozy, then.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Akira chimed with no real remorse as they arrived at Goro’s apartment. Goro rolled his eyes and they took their shoes off one by one.

“Hold on here a moment, I have another pair of slippers somewhere,” he said, really just meaning he had no idea how dirty he’d left his kitchen or if he’d put away the clothes that didn’t make the ‘seeing Akira for the first time in a year’ cut the day previous. Akira waited in the genkan for Goro to produce his extra house slippers, taking in what he could from the entryway.

“Get lost in there? Are there secret slipper rooms?” Goro heard him call as he shoved a third shirt into his closet.

“Absolutely not, I’d be paying a slipper room premium. Here,” Goro replied when he finally produced the slippers.

“Oh, and you’ve never been one to tend towards extravagance. How completely stupid of me to have ever considered it,” Akira teased, following him down the narrow hallway that was his kitchen to the single room.

Goro wanted to swat his shoulder for that one, but gritted his teeth instead. He’d told himself he would be _nice_ today.

He really did just have one room, he lamented as he led Akira in. His closet wasn’t even that big, on account of the building being slightly updated. All he had was a bed pushed against one wall, a small TV, and a desk in one corner. The desk was an organized mess, at this moment covered in self-teaching textbooks for all sorts of skills. His ears burned, ushering Akira past it and pushing him to sit on the bed, taking a beat to notice Akira was looking up at him with those big grey eyes in surprise and - was that curiosity? - and Goro realized what he had done. He recoiled his hand like he’d been burned. There was that sensation again. Akira’s expression turned complicated, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

“Would you like a drink?” Goro sighed.

Akira’s expression softened minutely, though the air still hung heavy and awkward. So stupid. “What do you have?”

Goro sidestepped to the small fridge next to his desk, opening the doors, the rush of cold air reminding him to turn on the air conditioning. “Um...water. And barley tea. And I have one bottle of jasmine tea from the conbini.”

“Hmm...and what are you going to have?”

“Does it ma - oh just take the tea Akira, for god's sake.” Goro launched the bottle of jasmine tea from where he was crouched over the fridge door and directly into Akira’s hands.

“Hey, thanks.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on being difficult,” Goro started, turning on the air conditioning before returning to sit gingerly beside Akira on the bed. The incredulous expression he was met with silenced any additional verbal jabs he might’ve spun. Ah yes. Pot, kettle. Nonetheless, “You could just tell me what you want.”

They settled back against the wall, pulling pillows over to prop themselves up. Goro turned on the television and handed the remote to Akira to scroll through the shows, fingers burning where their skin touched. _Ignore it_.

“I don’t know about that. I’m awfully greedy.”

Goro scoffed, trying not to let his mind read those words too deeply. Akira, greedy? Maybe, some deep dark part of him was, sure, he was human. But it was more often than not overshadowed by the great big selfless, sacrificial bastard that was Kurusu himself. Goro _wishes_ he would be greedy. Then maybe he’d be less agonizingly perfect all the time.

Akira chose an old Featherman season, why he could not imagine, not that he was paying much attention in the first place. Akira’d inched himself closer at some point in all their settling, and as the opening animation came to an end, looped his arm behind Goro’s back, bringing his chin up to nestle between Goro’s neck and shoulder. Goro froze, barely able to breathe, and desperately willed his brain to focus on the show, the clicking sound of the old fan, the hum of the refrigerator, anything but the feeling of Akira’s breath on his skin and fingers in his shirt.

They let a few minutes, or maybe it was just a handful of agonizing seconds, pass between them before Akira paused the show and looked up at Goro, who was still staring at the screen.

“Is this...okay?” Akira asked, concern showing through every word and god, Goro hated it, felt waves of self loathing and murderous rage roll through him.

“Yes,” he gritted out, still wholeheartedly incapable of unclenching, “it’s just that the closer you are, the more I become acutely aware that you are actually, physically here in front of me.” He barely got the sentence out before his breath caught in his throat and he pulled away. “Sorry, maybe it’s not okay after all. We were fine before, let’s just..get back to watching.” He was leaving himself cold, but cold was better than the alternative. He just needed to not entertain any thoughts regarding what that could be.

Akira didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and pressed play again, settling next to Goro with their arms touching.

_This is okay,_ Goro told himself. _I can deal with this_.

“You know. Even if everyone had been free today. I still would’ve wanted to sit here and watch TV with you.”

Goro clenched the fist Akira couldn’t see into his comforter, voice hardening, “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not like that,” Akira frowned.

“Not like what?”

“It’s not like I’m saying that to appease you. I just wanted you to know, this isn’t me settling.”

“I never said it was.”

Goro was glaring with all his might at the television screen, not caring to pick apart this particular silence, when Akira hummed close to his ear and pulled him closer again. Goro couldn’t breathe like this, but he knew if he pushed Akira away again they would have to talk about it. Akira would make him talk about it, and he couldn’t do that. Not today, not so soon. He hadn’t figured out what to say yet.

They watched Featherman in jilted silence, and after about forty minutes, the weight of Akira’s head sank more heavily on Goro’s shoulder. His guest had fallen asleep.

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d watched Akira sleeping. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d felt the steady thrum of Akira’s heartbeat against him, nor was it the first time they’d shared a bed. Just last night, Akira had just gotten back. Goro met him at Tokyo Station, paid the fee, even, to get through to the shinkansen platforms and meet him right at the door to his car. Akira didn’t comment on it, didn’t do anything more than blink in surprise and laugh, letting Goro carry his bag of omiyage and nothing else. They’d shared headphones on the train back to Leblanc, got surprised with hot and fresh late night curry courtesy of both Sojiro and Futaba, who only stuck around long enough to welcome him back to Tokyo, before both ascending the stairs. Goro had a pair of pajamas tucked away in his bag. Akira didn’t ask, and so Goro didn’t explain. The two of them curled up on the bed next to each other and Goro watched and waited as the boy lost the fight with sleep before inching closer to him, letting their shins touch, brushing a single knuckle to Akira’s forearm. _This is okay,_ he’d thought, before succumbing to slumber himself. And for the first time in what was probably months, he’d slept all the way through the night.

But this time, he wasn’t tired. This time, he wasn’t sneaking small touches under the cover of night. Akira weighed on him in every way and Goro felt his skin burn, as if his very veins were threads of lava, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at the mess of silky, curled hair on his shoulder, which was really terrible because he could see just down Akira’s nose to his lips, could see them twitch on a breath, and he felt his body wracked by such an intense want he couldn’t run from it anymore.

_I want to kiss him_.

Of course he wanted to kiss him, this charismatic leader of the Phantom Thieves who had challenged him from day one, who always tossed the questions Goro least wanted to answer back to him, had forced him to reconsider every value he’d clung to to get through the hellfire that was his childhood and his adolescence. This boy, who took it all and didn’t even seem to break a sweat. This boy, who could read Goro like those books he liked and Goro felt gratitude wash over him for the fact that Akira was usually right about the endings instead of him, because otherwise they really might not be where they are right now-

Akira opened one eye and tilted his head slightly to gaze up at Goro, who stared back, deer in headlights.

“You’re thinking awfully loudly,” Akira murmured, voice deep and ragged with sleep.

Goro closed his eyes and groaned dissent, shoving his face into his hands.

“What is it about?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,’ Goro said low and quiet. “Nothing I can put into words, at least.”

“Why not?” Akira shifted, turning towards him,

“Hmmm,” Goro hummed with some desperate humor, dragging his hands down his face and staring at the screen that had just begun to play episode five.

“I’m afraid, for one. I don’t have a plan, two. And I don’t want to talk about it in the first place, so that doesn’t help.”

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

He could feel Akira’s gaze on him and suppressed a shiver. Akira truly terrified him, sometimes. He’d almost forgotten.

“Because,” he breathed out, “it is selfish, and I am selfish, and I am working on being less...that.”

“You can be selfish with me.”

It knocked the wind out of him. Akira didn’t mean that, no matter how genuine and earnest he sounded. There was no way for him to know the enormity of such a promise. He was just being so infuriatingly himself, and that meant agreeing to things prematurely, flying by the seat of his pants as he threw himself to the wolves like it was some sport he could medal in. Goro couldn’t hold himself back for long, letting go of a small, private chuckle. It wasn’t a kind sound, and he knew Akira would be able to tell straight away. But he was running on fumes here.

“Enabling me to fall back on bad habits? I’m fairly certain that’s ill-advised, Akira.” He said pointedly, his eyes meeting Akira’s with accusation.

“I’m here to catch you, so for right now it’s okay.”

“...”

He said it so naturally. So quickly, so recklessly. Goro looked away again. He could taste blood in his mouth, could feel himself choke on it before it even happened. He pulled in a shaky breath, willing that sarcasm could cling on to line the edges of his words.

“I hate you so much.”

Akira said nothing. He was waiting, and Goro hated him more for it.

“I’ve hated you so much, for years. I put a bullet through your skull, Akira. Remember that?”

The boy hummed, yes, how could he forget? But he tightened his arms around Goro, too, and Goro felt the tension in his body flare up again, felt the clench of his jaw in his back teeth.

“But what makes it so...horrible. And perverted,” he spat the word, “Is that I love you, too.” His voice dropped to a whisper then, and he forced the words out. “Maybe more than I hate you.”

He felt Akira’s breath catch more than he heard it, and it felt like a final signature on a death warrant.

“Isn’t that just so selfish?” he choked out, furiously blinking back tears but missing one nonetheless. Oh, this is what he’d been avoiding for years. Far more years than he’d be willing to admit.

“I put a gun to your head and I still want you to love me back.”

His head hung low as he concentrated only on breathing, in, and then out, one ragged, torn effort after another. Akira wasted no time, crawling half over him to frame him with both arms, and Goro could feel his eyes search his face. Goro saw him open his mouth and winced in advance.

“Goro. Goro. I love you too.”

At this, Goro snapped up to glare at him. “I know you do Akira. For some fucking reason. But that’s not what I meant. You can’t love me the way I want you to.”

Akira narrowed his eyes.

“Goro.”

They held each other there, neither backing down, gazes unflinching, for a beat. Goro wanted to strangle him right then and there, and felt for a moment a perverse regret for having failed to kill him the first time.

“What.”

“You don’t dictate what I can and can’t feel.”

“Wha-?”

And then Akira’s lips met his, lightly and sweetly, for a long moment.

Goro didn’t even know if he kissed back, couldn't shake the shock that fizzled in the front of his brain and deep in the recesses of his chest, couldn’t make any one thought stick, before Akira pulled back again.

“Is this what you meant?”

“I- you.. Y-you. Just. I…”

His mouth didn’t work anymore, his mind could only think of how Akira’s lips felt on his, and how badly it wanted to do that again, and oh god, Akira better not be fucking with him or he really would kill him this time - but Akira just smiled at him, all dopey and pleased with himself, and any restraint Goro had left in his body abandoned him in an instant. He dug his fingers into the thick black hair, not caring that his fingernails probably dug into Akira’s scalp, and pulled the boy’s face back down sharply, capturing his lips without grace. It was okay, because Akira still smiled into the kiss, and met his intensity, and pressed his chest against him, and Goro made peace that moment with living the rest of his life sunburnt by Akira’s radiance if it meant he got to keep this.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading i'm about 40 hours into p5r right now and i am so back on my loving goro bullshit
> 
> i'm on twitter too @/reinibee


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